


The Blood Glistening in the Snow

by whataterrorificmess



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Combination of Book and TV adaption, Crozier missing his lover, Crozier trying to get the council to not be assholes, Gen, M/M, SO IT MAY HAVE SLIGHT BOOK SPOILERS, Sad Crozier, Sad fix-it, Some things may not be historically accurate, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Survivors Guilt, This is a VERY SAD FIC I CRIED WHILE WRITING IT, but that's why its called fanfiction, includes drunk Jopson telling Crozier off, lone survior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-02 17:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19446076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataterrorificmess/pseuds/whataterrorificmess
Summary: It was unfair that he was the only one left and he alone had to carry the names of all the men they had lost.This is the tale that Francis Rawdon Moria Crozier had to tell.. this is the story of tragedy at its finest.





	1. Reminiscences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts), [carnival_papers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnival_papers/gifts).



> WARNING!!!
> 
> This fanfic is a combination of both the TV show The Terror by AMC AND the book it was based off of written by Dan Simmons. 
> 
> THIS FANFIC MIGHT HOLD SLIGHT SPOILERS OR REFERENCES TO EVENTS IN THE BOOK SO YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!! IF YOU ARE READING IT CURRENTLY AND DON'T WANT SPOILERS YOU SHOULD LEAVE.
> 
> If you aren't reading it or haven't read it already... GO TO BARNES N' NOBLE YOU FOOLS!! IT IS AMAZING!!

The Northwest Passage. 

The mention of such a thing, should the damn thing even exist made his stomach churn and his blood boil. 

Francis Rawdon Moria Crozier FRS FRAS had seen a great many things in his lifetime. 

Such a passage was not one of them and at this point he hoped he never did. 

When they first set sail from Greenhithe that day on May 19th, 1845 he never expected the events that would eventually transpire and doom 129 men… no.. 128 men.

Most if not any of them expected these horrendous events. 

They never thought that the voyage would be compromised before they had even set sail because of those damned Goldner food tins. The price on the vast amount of food rations was almost too good to be true… and of course they later found out that it wasn’t true. 

Almost half of the food stores had been putrid way beyond the point of being edible when opened, the stuff that was Dr. Harry Goodsir later learned had been poisoning them all with lead possibly from the start of the voyage all the way back in 1845.

Perhaps… perhaps that attributed to the deaths of John Hartnell, William Braine, and John Torrington whom they buried on Beechy Island in the early January of 1846. It was reported that all three had died of pneumonia and consumption. 

Consumption just like David Young later that year the poor lad. 

Perhaps Dr. Goodsir was right maybe the lead they were consuming was compromising their bodies from the beginning and that’s what made the men get sick so easily. The men they buried at Beechy, it was unheard of for men to be lost so early on in a voyage lest of all three. He remembered Doctor McDonald talking to him about this fact.

They never expected to get frozen in the ice for three long winters the H.M.S Erebus and the H.M.S Terror had been solidified to withstand the ice. Two of the first vessels to experience such accommodations for ice exploration. 

A voyage for the Northwest Passage. For the glory of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy and for the country they so proudly served. 

_’Sir John Franklin. The Man Who Ate his Shoes.’_

To this day, he could not help but blame Sir John Franklin for the deaths of both crews. 

_‘All because the bloody idiot wouldn’t turn around and go for broke.’_

The god fairing, knighted, arctic voyager was more a fool than he had ever thought even when he overheard the conversation the man had with his wife that infernal Lady Jane Franklin and the lovely Miss Cracroft. 

If only he had seen the reasoning behind his proposition to go for broke and to be quite honest how the English oaf of a man did not was beyond his comprehension. He too had been an Arctic veteran for Christ’s sake much like Terror’s Ice Master and his good friend Thomas Blanky and their surgeon Dr. Alexander McDonald and himself. 

He knew full well how easily ships could be entrapped in the pack and he ignored his warning and sailed right into it. 

Francis didn’t know if it was the new modifications to the two ships that boosted the man’s confidence, because surely the H.M.S Erebus damaged propeller after striking a growler should have changed that, or if it was just the fact that Sir John Franklin was a stubborn man. 

They certainly didn’t expect to loose Sir John on June 11th 1847…lest of all to that... that… thing… that _Tuunbaq_.. the _creature_ … the monstrosity that they never expected nor were meant to know of it’s existence. 

Not a bear. Not a man. It just was. 

That creature killed so many of them. 

Lieutenant Graham Gore.

Captain Sir John Franklin.

Marine Sergeant David Bryant

Private William Heather. 

Private William Pilkington

Seaman Francis Pocock

Erebus’s cook Richard Wall 

Sailmaker John Murray

Ship’s Boy Thomas Evans

Seaman William Strong

Terror’s Cook John Diggle. 

Marine Sergeant Solomon Tozer. 

Seaman Magnus Manson 

Charles Frederick Des Vouex

Erebus’s Ice Master James Reid

Terror’s Carpenter Mr. Thomas Honey

Lieutenant James Walter Fairholme 

Second Master Gillies Alexander MacBean

Lieutenant George Henry Hodgson

Private William Reed

Private Joseph Healey

Lieutenant Robert Orme Sargent

Purser Charles Hamilton Osmer

Second Master Henry Foster Collins

Ship’s Boy Robert Golding

Terror’s Ice Master Thomas Blanky 

Caulker Thomas Darlington

Caulker’s Mate Cornelius Hick… whoever the impostor was. 

It was more fearsome than any bear, more dangerous, and most of all seemingly impossible to kill. 

The damn thing had seemed near imperishable. It had taken a cannon fire, one of Fitzjames rockets, countless rounds of ammunition, fire and so much more, yet still it had stood and chased and tore them to pieces. 

They didn’t expect Dr. Stephen Stanley to douse Fitzjames’s Grand Second Venetian Carnivale in flammables, tie up the exits and proceeded to set the place and himself ablaze in a fiery macabre. 

Such pointless carnage that ironically took three of their four surgeons in one night leaving poor Harry Goodsir the only one with medical experience of any sorts. Thank goodness John Bridgens had volunteered to become his assistant. 

They didn’t expect for half of the remaining voyage to be driven ashore when their flagship the H.M.S. Erebus let out on last otherworldly growl before she was crushed at the her knees and sank on March 31st 1848. 

Such an scene finally convinced both Fitzjames and himself that it was time to abandon both the ships. 

They had not expected from the start that they would have to walk over 800 miles through this heartless arctic hell in order for a rescue. Then of course no one was anticipating that they would find Lieutenant Fairholme’s sledge party that had been sent months earlier for this very reason should it arise all massacred bodies frozen in the icy plains with snowflakes falling on their heads and some with beards decorated with icicles. 

Killed. Murdered. Slaughtered. Only eight-teen miles from the ships and they’d been sitting there ever since likely since the very day they departed. 

They hadn’t expected any of it. 

After the men at Beechey and the tragic drowning of One out a hundred and twenty-nine men. 

It seemed so unfair especially now almost two years after he sat beside the last remaining member of the voyage having arrived at the very moment his friend was passing. 

He couldn’t help but think if only Lady Silence… Silna, had left their own camp earlier despite his still healing wounds he could have helped the dying Lieutenant Edward Little. 

The horror that had hit him when he first walked into that camp was so overwhelming.

Human leg bones resting in a pot where water had long since evaporated, another unknown crewman’s leg cut off just above the knee with a boot and tattered remnants of a trouser leg hanging off it both leather and fabric having been cut open at the back so that hunks of the calf could be cut out of the flesh, blood stained tools, utensils, scattered books with blood on them, wind beaten tattered tents with bodies inside. 

And inside the tent was where he had found his last surviving Lieutenant… the last one who had survived so agonizingly…

His greatcoat hanging off his frail body as he had sat slumped against the tent desperately trying to draw breath through his blue tinted lips. Hair and beard dangling with icicles and frost. His face hued a grayish blue from the cold and dangling with gold chains that had been pierced into his skin. 

To this day he still didn’t know if Edward had done that to himself or if it had been done to him by another crewmen in the absolute madness that had transpired.

The captain’s heart had felt so very, very heavy then and it still did now.

All he could do for the man was sit there and hold him by his side, his last word still haunted the Captain of the Terror to this day. 

“Close.” he muttered aloud with a scoff. 

As soon as the dying man had uttered the word it had broken him in a way as he could remember choking back a sob as he’d slumped down beside Edward and pulled him closer with his good hand. How quickly the man sought warmth was equally as heartbreaking as he leaned against him and allowed his head to find his shoulder and the crook of his neck. 

They sat there for a long while him absent mindedly stroking the dying Lieutenant's hair in attempts to comfort him and he continued to do so long after he’d heard the man’s breath stutter against his ear and then that was it he was gone. 

He would forever hate that accursed word. 

Immediately it had been clear that horrible… horrible awful things had taken place in that camp as did the other two before it… and rescue camp. 

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he recalled what he found when he and Silna had first set out back towards Rescue Camp.

Lieutenant Thomas Jopson. 

His beloved steward of eight years and just recently given a promotion he should have had a long time ago.

The poor lad had been sick with scurvy something fierce when he and Dr. Goodsir were tricked by one of Hickey’s lackeys into an ambush. 

Crozier held no resentment nor blame towards Lieutenant Little for not coming back for him and Goodsir. The fact that the men had left their sick to die, telling themselves that they would come back for them to make themselves feel better about leaving men who had ever right to live as the next to die alone in this cold miserable place no less, was all the proof he needed.

As loyal as Edward had been he knew he would never have defied an order but he also knew how dedicated loyal the man was to him.

He would have led a team back if he could have but Crozier had a feeling the men’s spirits were already too broken to lead an attack all they wanted was to get out of this god forsaken place.

He swallowed thickly as he recalled finding poor Thomas.

Jopson had crawled out of the tent where he’d been left likely trying to beg the men not to leave him behind. 

Oh how he had prayed that the men had told him what had transpired and why he wasn’t there because the thought of his loyal companion thinking that he would abandon him was too much for him to take. 

A couple tears dripped down his face as he couldn’t help but imagine what the young handsome man who had been a friend and so much more to him for several years went through. 

He had helped him through some of the agonizing times, the boring dinner meetings aboard Erebus with Sir John, helping him as he put the drink away, even going as far as to help him get over the woman he once thought was the one he was meant to be with by proving it wrong. 

**Memory**

_He was really in a foul mood as of late and the past few days have just been absolutely tiresome and miserable as was everything else out here in this frigid plain of death._

_As he made his way towards his great cabin he paused momentarily when he saw the dim glow of lamplight beneath the sliding door._

_‘It’s probably Thomas finishing up some of his routine.’ he thought quietly as he reached for the door to slide it open._

_He paused however when his ears faintly managed to pick up a noise from inside that he was unfamiliar with over the sound of the ships groans._

_“He’s a jolly good fell … fellllow… hic… fellooowww..” someone sung to themselves their tune interrupted by stutters and hiccups as they went._

_Was that singing? Was that Jopson?_

_Curious Crozier slid the door open and easily spotted Jopson sitting at his table with one hand holding a glass of whisky and a bottle sitting right next to it and the hand polishing one of his boots._

_“.. hehe… jolly good..hic... filllowww-!”_

_“Thomas?” he addressed the man softly announcing his presence._

_“Ah! Oh… C-Captian… hic… I um… Good evening.” the younger man started in alarm pushing the glass of whiskey away slightly._

_Crozier looked from the glass to the bottle and his mouth dropped open in bewilderment as he noticed the boy had drank two-thirds a bottle of whiskey._

_Normally he’d be royally pissed but given this was Jopson he really couldn’t bring himself to be mad as he quietly slid the great cabin door shut._

_“I um.. ah… hic… I’m sorry Captain.”_

_Francis was about to speak when he noticed the flush on the younger man’s face and the tears that were scattered about his eyelashes._

_“Thomas what on Earth is the matter?” he asked gently as he took a seat in the chair next to him._

_“I ah… it’s… hic… nothin’ Captain.” he stuttered grabbing his boot in one hand as he started to polish it with his full attention._

_“Oh no you don’t Thomas Jopson!” he couldn’t help but snap impatiently as he all but yanked the rag and the boot from his drunken steward’s hands and set both down on the ground by his chair well out of the younger man’s reach._

_Jopson didn’t look at him as he seemed to find the table surface so much more interesting while he fiddled with his thumbs nervously._

_He took a deep breath and tried again, “Thomas. What’s the matter?”_

_Thomas was upset that much was very clear. He could see a deep sadness lying deep in those eyes surrounded by wet eye lashes._

_“Please… Sir… w-with respect, I can not tell you.”_

_Crozier frowned and his eyebrow twitched in irritation, “Why the bloody hell not?”_

_“Because it’s private!” Jopson snapped defensively his raised voice made Crozier sit back in his chair hands upturned in his lap and eyes wide in surprise._

_He had to admit he didn’t think he’d ever heard the normally formal and polite young man raise his voice before, certainly never to him in all the years they’ve served together._

_Thomas immediately looked apologetic at the sight of his surprise and quickly offered a small, ‘I’m sorry Sir.’_

_The older man sighed heavily as he stood up from the table to retrieve a glass to pour himself a drink._

_As soon as the glass was set on the table Jopson quickly reached out for it and the bottle to pour him a glass but Crozier swiftly scooted it out of his reach grabbing Jopson’s own glass as well as he sat down._

_The steward watched nervously as Crozier poured them both a glass of whiskey and held it out for the him to take which he did with a bit of hesitation._

_Francis took a large sip out of his glass and let out a deep sigh of content as he set it down._

_Both of them sat in an awkward silence Crozier waiting for his steward to speak when he was good and ready and Jopson a nervous drunken mess._

_He stared at the glass anxiously but at the same time he already knew he’d snagged hold of the Captain’s spirits without permission._

_“Go ahead Thomas, you look like you need it. I can assure you I won’t mention anything about this, not a whisper. I have had my suspicions that something has been ailing you for two days now.”_

_Jopson lifted his eyes to meet the Captain’s with a bit of uncertainty but he did take a sip and set it back down. “Thank you Sir.”_

_Awkward silence befell the two Terrors once more and this time it seemed like it would go on forever._

_They could hear the great timbers of the ship groaning in protest as the ice squeezed at them._

_Finally Jopson’s voice filled the void that had developed in the room._

_“Captain?”_

_Francis turned his eyes to the younger man noticing the flush on his face had lessened slightly since he’d entered the room._

_Perhaps his little outburst had sobered him up a bit._

_“Yes Thomas?” he replied softly._

_“Might I... ah… ask you a... personal question Sir?”_

_Crozier’s heart panged as the young man’s question dripped with a mournful sadness._

_Whatever was on his steward’s mind had clearly been troubling him for a while._

_He nodded as he studied the young man carefully._

_“I-I… ah.. with respect Sir as I.. I don’t wish to pry if it weren’t important… I mean I guess that, it is, I suppose it really is not important but I wish to know something Sir.”_

_Crozier took a sip of his whiskey and Jopson did the same downing it in two swift gulps which to be honest had Francis a little baffled._

_He hadn’t known the steward had such an iron stomach._

_Then again he’d never seen the young man in such an intoxicated state._

_… had he ever seen him drink before?_

_“Yes?” Crozier asked softly in hopes to reassure that lad so he’d spit it out already._

_“Have… ah… that is, I have you ever… been in love before Captain?” the boy floundered out with a voice filled with a desperation that Crozier had never quite heard from the other._

_‘That was it? That’s what the lad has to ask me? Why?’_

_None the less he offered the younger man a sad smile. “I think you’ve heard this story several times.”_

_Jopson’s flush had come back and Crozier couldn’t help but think that the young handsome face’s scarlet hue would immediately make the ladies back in London swoon._

_The steward wet his lips with his tongue before responding. “…hic…. With Miss Cracroft?”_

_Despite the fact that he was well aware that young Jopson knew of his love interest having confided with the man a couple times as he vehemently vented his frustrations of Sir John the brashness of his voice disarmed him slightly and it took him a moment to recover._

_“Yes.”_

_He watched as Jopson’s long lashes flitted fitfully, could see blue eyes mist a bit before he lowered his gaze._

_“But.. hic… why?” he asked and he suddenly sounded very tired._

_Francis seemed to notice a change in the young man’s air as if a gloomy fog much like his own various states of melancholy._

_None the less he pondered the question as he thought of Sophia, of her golden hair with bouncy curls, her beautiful blue eyes, and her small perky breasts as they had bobbed in the water when they went swimming in the platypus pool that day long ago back in England._

_“W-With respect… I… think you’re foolish to ...hic... chase after Miss Cracroft when she… hic… has her own eyes after someone else...”_

_The captain was taken aback by the lad’s candidness._

_‘Christ be damned Thomas you’ll be captain of a ship one day I’ll see to that.’ he thought to himself._

_He cleared his throat and got ready to respond but it seemed the younger man had more to say._

_“… why she would … hic… reject your hand.. twice is… is… awful!” the young man cried with a very animated swing of an arm that almost clocked him in the head had he not ducked._

_Finally this comment irked a nerve and he was about to tell Jopson that this was none of his business when he caught sight of the young steward’s face._

_Tears had formed at the corners of his eyes as he stared back at him with a look of misery and defeat. “She doesn’t realize how.. hic… lucky she is… to… to have your undivided… hic… attention… and she doesn’t realize.. hic… how cruel she has been to throw.. hic… all that love right back in your face Sir.”_

_It didn’t go unnoticed how Jopson’s face had tinted scarlet from more than just whiskey and Francis couldn’t help but ponder over his steward’s drunken slurred words._

_Sophia Cracroft was a beautiful woman one he’d lusted over for several years now. There were so many a time where he thought their relationship was going somewhere only to be disheartened when he found out that she hadn’t believed they were in a relationship._

_That was what she had said when she first rejected his proposal._

_She was the one socialite who could actually force him to go to one of those maliciously in-tented social gatherings without even asking him to._

_He had chased her for almost six years and still… she could never bee seen with him at social mingles._

_“I-I’m sorry Sir… I just… I hate to hear that you… hic… would rather chase someone who… who very well might not ever … think of you that way... hic… when… I-I do.”_

_Crozier’s eyes widened in surprise at the revelation and Jopson obviously noticed his mistake as he frantically clasped both hands over his mouth as soon as the words left knocking the crystal glass to the floor in his frantic movement._

_He watched as Thomas quickly slipped out of the chair to go get a dustpan in his drunken clumsiness but he landed among some of the broken crystal and Francis could hear the sharp intake of breath as the young man’s knee was cut on a particularly sharp piece._

_Francis got up quickly and pulled him to his feet sitting him back down in the chair._

_The young steward was crying hysterically blubbering several desperate ‘I’m sorry Sir’s , ‘I didn’t mean it’ and ‘I’ve had too much drink’._

_“Thomas.”_

_He was absolutely bewildered by the man’s sudden breakdown, the small mantra quickly turning to something about sodomy and not wanting to be lashed, begging not to be lashed like Mr. Hickey._

_The sight of young Thomas Jopson, his normally calm and always composed steward reduced to a blubbering wreck upset him greatly and he gently pulled him close to his own body offering the poor man a much needed hug._

_When Thomas’s panicked sobs still didn’t cease Crozier brought one hand up to run through his dark hair comfortingly as he held him._

_“Thomas.. Thomas… at ease lad I am not angry with you… everything is alright.”_

_He had always known Thomas Jopson was an attractive man, much like Fitzjames he no doubt had ladies following him all day in Britain._

_Dark hair almost black and blue eyes that were framed with surprisingly long lashes he kept his face clean shaven._

_“No, no it’s not Sir. I-I shouldn’t have.. hic.. said those things I… it was… I was out of line.”_

_Francis pulled the younger man back to look him in the eyes watching as his mouth hung open ever so slightly as he finally uttered one last apology, “I’m the worst kind of sorry Sir.”_

_He brushed his fingers through Jopson’s bangs which had come loose from their styled place in the midst of his scuffle with the floor._

_“No Thomas, I am grateful.”_

_The younger man sniffled miserably as his words caught his attention. “Sir?”_

_“I believe you may be the first person to help me see that I indeed have been chasing something that cannot be.”_

_“I-I…” the younger man stuttered and Crozier took that moment to lean in and let his lips meet the young steward’s to silence any further protests he had._

**~End Memory~**

If his memory was correct it was the seventeenth of August when he and Dr. Goodsir were taken captive and if it took Edward a while to get back to Rescue Camp it would have been around night fall. Knowing the nature of Lieutenant Henry Le Vesconte who liked to discuss things before doing and knowing it would have taken time to try to convince Edward he imagined they would have given the man a day to recover or more likely ‘discuss their plan’ before setting out.

Which would have made it either the nineteenth or twentieth of August. 

The twentieth would have been Thomas’s thirty-first birthday. 

_Bollocks!_

He had to swallow the lump that had risen in his throat at the thought. 

It was too cruel. All of it was just too fucking cruel. 

Jopson deserved so much more than to have been left behind like a dying animal which infuriatingly was the fate the man had been granted. 

Crozier took a deep shuddering breath as he continued walking across the ice, pulling the hood of the seal fur parka tighter around his neck as a frigid north wind came from nowhere. 

It was unfair that he was the only one left and he alone had to carry the names of all the men they had lost. 

He let his thoughts drift to Terror’s Ice Master and his good friend Thomas Blanky. 

Oh how he missed that foul mouthed pirate of a man. 

It was hard, the day he let the Ice Master walk away from their group with a pack full of… forks… and rope.

A sad smile spread across his face as he recalled that conversation they had so many nights ago. 

_“Between me and you, Francis, I'm done for.”_

_“If you need to ride in a damn boat, I'll put you there myself!”_

_“They're gonna have to cut it a lot higher this time. And that's only for the time being. Let's not make me or Mr. Bridgens go through that, shall we?”_

_“Bleedin' hell, Thomas, why didn't you speak up?!”_

_“I kept it tidy. No one could've done a better job.”_

_“Jesus Christ!”_

_“Francis, we both know what's comin' for me now! At least love me enough to admit it!”_

Francis snorted at the memory of that one. 

“Love you enough to admit it? You always were a cheeky arsehole bastard.” 

Forks. 

Fucking forks! 

And rope. 

The he remembered thinking how absurdly mad the request had been and how his old friend had eagerly hopped about laughing til he cried at the look on his shocked face. 

Thomas Blanky. That man had been just as much fearless as the _Tuunbaq_ itself, must’ve why the two hit heads twice. 

He missed his friend’s obnoxious hearty laughter and he wished he could hear it one more time if he could.

One more joke. One more conversation of playful banter. 

As he thought about his friend and the time since, he had to confess he didn’t think he’d laughed a single day since that last conversation.

Of course in this world now, there was nothing to laugh about any more the noise sounded foreign to him. 

He continued to walk through the cold tundra he could see the igloos and tents belonging to the small tribe of Netsilik who had been so kind and welcoming to his presence after he revealed to them that all his men were dead. 

Every single one. 

His mind drifted off to James. 

It was ironic really that they had fought like cats and dogs during the first half of their… voyage. Though one could hardly call this a voyage anymore. 

James Fitzjames was a great man who unknown to most had gone through trials in his life ever since he was brought into this world. 

He was honored that the man had trusted him enough to keep his secret as Francis could tell by the tears that had rolled down James’s cheeks that these unspoken truths burdened him greatly and had for a very long time. 

In the end he was proud to call the man his brother and it was unfortunate that they couldn’t have made better acquaintances sooner. 

When Francis looked up he noticed how all of the people in their tribe were staring at him having come out of their tents. 

Something was wrong. 

That was when he saw two men, white men step out of the tent belonging to their tribe’s leader. 

He made eye contact with one of them who had just looked up in time to meet his gaze.

Francis couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping open in shock and he felt his knees buckle beneath him as he watched his old friend run frantically towards him. 

“Good Christ! Francis! Oh my God you’re alive!” James Ross’s tearful voice rang in his ears as he knelt down in front of him. 

“J-James…” he stuttered not quite sure whether what was in front of him was a hallucination or if he was really seeing his friend before him. 

A dark pit started to form in the bottom of his stomach as he realized he would have no choice but to face the life he thought he could leave behind. 

It was cruel and unfair… after all he was the only one left and he alone had to carry the names of all the men they had lost. 

Tears gathered in his eyes as he stared into Ross’s concerned questioning gaze while he allowed the man to help him up. 

“Francis I’m so sorry...” James barely choked out before he wrapped the shorter man in a tight embrace. 

“Everyone.” Francis muttered softly into the man’s ear as he hesitantly returned the embrace. 

James pulled away and met Crozier’s steely blue gaze to confirm what the man just said. 

He knew then what the word meant just by the agonized look in his friend’s eyes. 

He meant that everyone else was dead.


	2. Horrors Within Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY First, I'll explain what happened if it wasn't made clear already. 
> 
> Crozier did not tell the leader of that particular Netsilik tribe a story to give anyone looking for him. He didn't think they would find them.
> 
> CORNY I GET IT BUT JUST ROLL WITH IT! T_T This is my first Terror Fic.

As Francis sat in Ross’s great cabin aboard the H.M.S Enterprise he could only sit and stare at the table uncomfortably. 

He’d only just arrived on this ship and already he wanted to get the bloody hell off of it. 

_’Fucking bollocks. I should have told him to give any rescue party some sort of story, they would have done it.’_

It was too late now. 

Ross had stepped out of the great cabin to speak with the ship’s surgeon after he had looked him over despite his insistence that he was fine. 

So here he sat alone looking around the great cabin as he waited silently. 

There were books on the shelves, crystal dinnerware in the cabinets, a seafarers trunk which he knew was meant to hold personal belongings, Ross’s dress coat rested on a hook on the wall along with the hat a captain normally only wore on special occasions, two pairs of boots were set on the floor beneath them. 

There was a desk in the corner of the room with various papers cluttered about it’s surface.

 _‘Are those maps?’_ he wondered as he recognized a shape upon some of the papers that he sadly had seen too many times over the course of his time here, before he left them in the last camp of his dying men, of dying Edward Little, that is. 

They had had bloody hand prints on the edges and some were stained completely red with the dried frozen blood of his men. 

He already knew that there was blood on his hands, so.. so much blood, he did not wish to carry it around with him the rest of his life to sit there and remind him of how he had failed his men... and he didn’t want to see a map of King William Land..

 _’King William **Island** , Sir John.’_ he thought bitterly as he remembered his theory had been correct. 

Francis didn’t want to see one ever again. 

Despite this he stood up and started to approach Ross’s desk swallowing thickly as he did. 

On the right corner of the desk there were also the brass cylinder tubes that had been used to leave messages in the cairns, three of them. 

An ink well with a quill sat neatly in the left corner against the wall. 

That caught his attention first instead of the papers on the desk and Francis slowly reached down to pick up the quill shaking off the excess ink.

He stared at it as he held it in his remaining hand remembering how he had normally signed and dated so many reports and letters with his missing one. 

Still holding the pen he finally looked down to the cluttered papers before squeezing his eyes shut for a moment taking a deep breath and letting it out as he tried to will himself to gather the strength to view them. 

They were exactly what he had suspected. 

He opened his eyes with a tired sigh, letting his eyes scan the maps and charts that were heavily marked likely with areas previously searched.

Shifting a couple papers aside he found that they all were either the same exact map or one that looked extremely similar. It was then that he noted how each one had a date at the top of it always the month and the year. Written beside it was a sort of time stamp? 

Despite the clutter he noticed they were in order the one on top labelled with the current; June 1850. Looking at the writing beside this he now understood what these time stamps were. They were keeping count of how long ago they had last been sighted or heard from. 

“Five years and a quarter.” he read aloud in a soft whisper. 

Unable to help himself he shuffled through the cluttered pile of papers he slowly set the quill back in the inkwell and started to gather the maps in his hand trying to keep them in order as best he could. 

Once he reached the bottom one Francis froze and tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat and he tried his hardest to keep the tears that filled his eyes from falling as he read the date on the on it. 

August 1847. Two and a half years. 

_’They were already looking for us.’_

An overwhelming wave of emotions hit him, sadness, anger, and disappointment. It all at once and he clutched the map tightly in his hand as he sank to his knees and screamed at the top of his lungs. 

There were far too many words that he wanted to say but he didn’t even know where he should start so he just screamed until his voice actually crackled. 

He heard the door to the great cabin slide open followed by a couple pairs of booted feet running across the wooden floorboards before they stopped as the two men were now kneeling in front of him. 

“Captain Crozier! Sir what’s wrong!?” Ross’s surgeon asked desperately. 

Francis didn’t reply instead his frustrated screaming morphed into loud angry sobs as tears flowed freely down his cheeks now tinted a rosy red from his emotional outburst. 

“Francis, Francis look at-” Ross stopped mid-sentence as he noticed what it was that his friend held in his hand.  
“Dr. Able, you are dismissed. I shall call you if I need you further.” Ross addressed the other man, his own voice cracked with emotion briefly causing the doctor to looked at him in confusion and uncertainty but complied with the order.

“Yes Sir.” he replied bowing his head as he left the great cabin and slid the door closed behind him leaving the two men alone. 

Now in the midst of privacy James placed both his hands on Francis’s shoulders that were absolutely shaken with uncontrollable sobs. 

Seeing his friend in this state a state he’d never seen before from him made his heart break into pieces that he knew would never be repaired and it wasn’t long before he felt hot streaks running down his own face as he tried to find the words to say.

“Francis,” he croaked out “, I am so sorry. We have been looking for the ships for a long time… words cannot describe how upset we are that we could not make it sooner...” 

The Irishman tried to calm himself with deep breaths only but it didn’t work for long as it wasn’t long after he seemed to settle he broke down once again. 

Ross tried to wrap the man in an embrace but the older man shoved him back with a strong calloused hand against his chest it almost took the wind out of him to be honest. 

Sir James knew any other situation he’d have to address such behaviour but right now James Ross didn’t fucking care about the admiralty’s fucking rules. 

He had just found his friend he’d suspected dead for three years alive! Regrettably though, out of a hundred and twenty-nine men… he was the only one to be found, but his friend was alive and he knew the man’s heart was hurting. 

Ironically he would never know just how much poor Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier’s heart hurt. 

“If they could have held on longer Sir James, we could have gotten out of this god forsaken hell fuck piss hole!” Crozier shouted in frustration the tears streaming down his face and dripping off his beard. 

James swallowed thickly as the man went into one of his famous Irish tantrums albeit an extremely emotional one that made it a lot less amusing than all the ones he remembered before… there was nothing amusing about this. 

Not at all. 

“I’m sorry.” he could only whisper. 

“Fitzjames! Blanky! Little! Goodsir! Even Sir John if it had been a month earlier!,” Francis paused in his shouts as his eyes suddenly developed a look of absolute horror as he seemed to recall something, whatever it as it made the man throw the map down and hunch over covering his face with his one hand as he started sobbing again “, fucking Christ... and Jopson!” 

Ross swallowed again as he realized he was starting to feel nauseous staring at Crozier with wide eyes still wet with seemingly endless tears.

“Most of them were still alive in June of 1847!” he all but screamed at him. 

He knew the man was just upset but he couldn’t deny that the passive accusations did sting.

Crozier stopped yelling after that, stopped talking for that matter and instead worked on trying to compose himself as he sat there taking deep breaths. 

James said nothing, he did nothing, he just sat there patiently and waited for his agonized friend to calm down. 

It wasn’t until several minutes later that it was actually possible or at least enough that the man could speak. 

“James, you have to take me back.” 

Sir James Ross’s eyes widened in astonishment before narrowing in a barely contained anger. 

“Not happening Francis! Do you know how worried everyone has been?!”

Francis shot back a glare equally as fierce. 

“Flamin’ Christ, it’s not me they miss Sir James, the man they miss is dead! They are all dead.” 

The younger man couldn’t help it as his frustration with this new changed Francis Crozier finally got to him. 

“You are the captain of a ship Francis! A ship that went missing along with another both belonging to the Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, with her combined crew of one-hundred and twenty-nine for nearly five and a half years!? This goes far beyond the people missing Sir John Franklin most people couldn’t stand him! This is about the families of these men back home who have never been given an answer as to what happened to them.” 

Crozier grit his teeth and stood glaring down at his old friend as he shook with rage his face red once more almost up to his ears. 

“Don’t you dare sermon me about what I am James Ross! My heart aches for those families, if the circumstances were different I would contact them in a heartbeat to give them that closure! I sailed with those men James, as did some of those with you!”

Ross stood up to his full height glaring angrily at Crozier, not understanding how this was the man who he’d originally sailed with. 

He wasn’t the same, he didn’t seem like the man who cared wholeheartedly about his crew. The Francis he knew would have wanted to reassure the families of anyone lost and the fact that some of those lost were dear friends to both of them made it all the more disrespectful not at all what the perished crew deserved.

There was a soft knock on the great cabin door but James didn’t even look at it, instead replying simply “Come in.” 

The door slid open as a couple of his Lieutenant’s poked their heads in only to see the two captains standing nearly chest to chest glaring at each other as their heated conversation came to a standstill. 

It was one of the most terrifying sights the Lieutenant had ever seen and he suddenly found words hard to come by. 

“Sir James… I… um… sorry to interrupt… we was just wanting to make sure everything is-”

James turned to look at the stuttering lieutenant and scowled before cutting him off, “Lieutenant Wallice, did I not make it clear enough to Dr. Able that I would call if I needed anything?” 

The man started to explain but Ross wasn’t having it he was too infuriated by Francis’s attitude. 

“Out!” James roared angrily point at the door as further indication, said door immediately slammed shut and they were alone again.

The two men stared at each other some more until James ground out between clenched teeth, “What in the bloody hell kind of circumstance warrants you keeping the fates of these men from their families Francis?” 

It was just like that Captain Crozier’s face went from red to almost sheet white and his anger clearly dissipated. 

He slowly turned his back and sat at the table in the great cabin, slumping into the seat heavily as he clearly pondered his eyes suddenly looking very tired and deeply troubled. 

The behaviour was so unlike the Francis he knew that it nearly spooked the knighted man. 

“Did you ever think James, that I was staying with the Netsilik for a reason?” Crozier asked his voice void of accusation as he was too tired. 

James had to admit the question caught him off guard and he slowly made his way over to the table and sat down across from his friend. 

The sight of Francis… clearly something very awful must have happened. 

“What is it Francis?” 

The man was quiet for several moments before he cleared his throat and responded. “I cannot tell the admiralty the details of what transpired.” 

Ross didn’t understand was Francis admitting to him that something so awful had happened that he didn’t feel strong enough to recount the events to the admiralty? 

Crozier had noticed Ross’s quizzical expression and added onto his former statement, “They would not believe me.” 

James groaned at the statement and pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming. 

“Francis if this is about how the admiralty feels about your Irish heritage again…” 

Francis shook his head in response to the statement. “It is not.” 

“Then-” James started and Crozier let out a tired sigh.

“Do you trust me James?” 

Ross again was taken aback by such a question, especially one that Francis knew he should never have to ask. 

“Francis, of course I do. We’ve been friends for a long time and I know you better than most.” 

His friend nodded in acceptance of his answer and looked down at his hands.. or hand. 

“Then you know me well enough to understand that I am no sceptic. I believe what is before my eyes.” 

Ross snorted a laugh, “Yes, it has caused quite a few interesting debates between Mr. Blanky and yourself.” 

As soon as he said the name his own frame slouched in his chair at the memory of the thrill chasing man.

“I have been sober for two years now, so I hate to ask this of you James, but do you have any whiskey on hand?” 

James blinked trying to register the information as well as the question that had just been asked.

He didn’t need to be told twice as he was already up and walking to the cabinet to retrieve two glasses then to his seafarer’s trunk where he normally stashed his strong stuff. 

“Of course! It’s been a while since the two of us shared a drink hasn’t it?” he chimed trying to get Francis out of this gloom cloud he’d unintentionally created around the man with a single question.

As he glanced over his shoulder he saw no smile, he heard no laugh but he did hear a barely audible ‘It has’ as the man continued to stare blankly in as if in his own little world. 

_’The place has broken this man.’_ he thought sadly as he offered the glass of whiskey to Crozier who took it gratefully and took a couple large gulps before putting it down.

“I have seen something James, something that I still do not understand to this day.” 

Ross lifted an eyebrow in question, “What kind of thing?” 

Crozier lifted his glass again taking a smaller sip this time just to quell his nerves. 

“Something none of us were meant to see, I believe, we weren’t to know of it’s existence.” he replied his voice held no hint of storytelling dramatics just simple candor. 

James had to admit he felt goosebumps go up his arm and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. 

“This thing killed at least twenty-eight men, including Sir John and Thomas.” 

The younger man couldn’t help but ask, “An animal?” 

He was confused when Crozier shook his head. 

“No. The Netsilik called it Tuunbaq. It is neither man nor animal, but an ancient creature that disguises itself as a great bear.” 

Ross stared at his friend in awe for a second completely thinking the man had lost his mind. 

He promptly with a raised eyebrow took a large gulp of his whiskey. He had a feeling he was going to need it tonight.

“It stood at least twelve feet tall on two legs and could still easily dwarf Magnus Manson on all fours.”

“Magnus Manson? The giant of a man who still wasn’t very bright?” Ross asked deciding to play along for now.

Francis nodded. 

“How did you encounter this beast Francis?” James inquired in what he hoped sounded intrigued tone but it came out as more mocking than it should have.

Instead of a response he was shocked when Crozier hurled the crystal glass at the wall in a violent rage turning back to face him with a heated glare before approaching him and yanking him up out of his chair with his one hand. 

He was surprisingly strong despite only having one hand he couldn’t help but notice. 

“Now you listen to me Ross and you listen well! Don’t you dare act like I have gone bloody mad! We buried Lieutenant Graham Gore without a body only some of his medals! We thought that damn thing was a bear and when the marines tried to shoot it that hell spawned monstrosity easily overpowered them and Sir John was killed by it. Dragged down a hole in t he ice where we were forced to assume he drowned for all that was left for us to bury was his right severed leg.” 

The details of what happened to the leader of the voyage made Ross dizzy and Crozier shaking him by the collar wasn’t helping. 

“Sergeant David Bryant was killed as well in that particular scuffle and it took the help of the doctors to wrap the man up in a way that his head would not fall off!” 

Ross felt bile rising up his throat but he swallowed it back down as Crozier released him or more threw him back into the chair, standing over him in such a rage his neck was also turning red.

“We were called by the last watch when they found Private William Heather laying on the ground motionless, eyes open staring at the sky still as a fucking statue in a church!, Can you guess what the worst part about it was James?!” he spat furiously 

The younger man could only offer him a meek ‘no as he shrunk back in his chair. 

“The top of the man’s fucking skull was gone! Christ almighty, his brains were exposed to the damned world and he STILL alive and he remained so for months after the incident! Trapped in his own body unable to do anything, not even blink! None of the doctors had an answer for it. Now Ross, you sit there explain to me how that is possible!” 

He sat there silently too anxious to speak, not even to the two Lieutenants who had quietly entered the room unbidden likely worried about his safety. 

“Well?! Give me a bloody answer Ross!” 

“I… I don’t know Francis… that’s… that’s impossible...” 

“God damn you James Ross have I ever lied to you about something serious!? I saw this with my own eyes you English buffoon!” he all but screamed in the younger man’s face, his own turning a deep scarlet as his Irish rage boiled over. 

“That same night we went out searching for William Strong whom we feared had been taken by that thing. I went out on that damn forsaken ice myself to look! I brought one of the ship’s boys Thomas Evans with me because the poor lad was scared and I thought I could protect him! I thought I had found Strong and told Evans to stay put for one second, one second James and that’s all it took and it was for nothing but a coat that had been laid over a pool of blood! We found them later on board Terror leaning over the railing the bottom half was Evans and the top half was Strong both stacked on top of each other to look like one person!” 

“Francis...” he swallowed thickly.

It was now that Francis was starting to get emotional again, his voice crackled as he started to speak.

“Blanky lost his bloody leg to that monster but he lived, only to get gangrene later and he sacrificed himself to that beast covered in ropes and forks in hopes to wound it or slow it down!” 

_‘Wait did he say rope and forks?’_

“I watched that creature take musket ball after musket ball, shotgun fire, we shot it with a cannon, James hit it with one of his rockets, we even set it on fire! Nothing stopped it James!” 

He didn’t understand how such a creature should… could even exist. From what Francis described it was intelligent, deadly, and undying. 

“Eventually it was stopped, strangled by a boat chain of all bloody things!”

Ross watched as Francis removed the seal fur parka he wore revealing a horrific looking scar from claws larger than he’d ever seen before going straight across his chest. 

“There was a man among us who was not upon the roster. Cornelius Hickey had been murdered by a heartless swine whose name I do not know, nor do I care! He formed a mutiny and a group of our men left with him. I was taken to that scoundrel's camp after we were tricked into an ambush. That man who called himself Hickey was absolutely mad! They were eating each other! Later he tried to tame that beast and I watched tied to a bloody boat as that creature killed eight men including Mr. Hickey!”

As Ross looked towards the door he could see the bewildered faces of several crew members who couldn’t help but hear the Terror Captain’s shouts.

He shot them a glare and they scuttled off instantly. 

Francis bent down so he was at eye level with Ross who swallowed nervously.

“Christ, I experienced these things, saw them with my own eyes so don’t you dare look at me like someone who has lost their bloody mind! All of the men are dead. They are gone.”

Crozier stood there huffing and puffing for a moment before his shoulders slumped and he let out an exhausted sigh, he moved to sit back down in the chair looking absolutely defeated as he held Ross’s gaze. 

Ross let the Irishman simmer for a bit til he cooled down before he finally gathered up the courage to ask a question he hoped wouldn’t set the man off again.

He was about to ask it when Captain Crozier’s eyes suddenly narrowed angrily as he cast his eyes down to glare at the map that still lay on the floor. 

“I blame Sir John for this, all of it.” he spat vehemently.

The statement made Ross flinch as if the words themselves had been a projectile being launched at him. 

He was used to Francis speaking his mind but he had never done so in front of Lieutenant’s especially ones he did not command himself and Sir James shifted his glance to the two lieutenants who hadn’t left the room and he realized it was because he hadn’t dismissed them yet. 

Deciding that would be best he addressed the two men. 

“Mr. Johnson. Mr. Wilkens. None of what Captain Crozier has said leaves this room. Do I make myself clear?”

“Aye Captain.” both men said almost in unison.

“Good, as you were gentlemen.”

The two men both left the room without saying a single word or uttering a sound, but Crozier watched the men both share a glance at one another after looking at him through the corners of their eyes. 

Clearing his throat to indicate they were returning to their previous conversation, Ross looked at him a with a bewildered expression. 

“Have you gone mad Francis?!” he hissed lowly pausing for a moment before continuing, “, most of the men who still sail in these times still believe Franklin was a saint! Refrain yourself from insulting the man without privacy, he was knighted after all!” 

Francis snorted before replying with a cold voice barely above a whisper, “That foolish old man let his own pride compromise and condemn a hundred and thirty-three men, no wait, I take that back a hundred and twenty-seven men, to early graves. Forgive me James, but the man is due nothing. Not from me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Francis sighed and explained to the man of Erebus’s damaged propeller, and how he had suggested way before they even got stuck to go for broke and how Sir John had arrogantly shrugged off the idea as well as his and both Ice Master's concern about sailing through the pack ice as temperatures rapidly plummeted. 

“Fucking Christ! If that old fool had just put his pride aside and listened to me for once. We never would have been frozen in for almost three years and I won’t say none, but I will say most of those men could still be here today. I am going to make sure the admiralty knows this much, I swear to it.” he finished the last part of his sentence developing a more determined and angry timbre.

“I witnessed horrible things on this voyage Sir James.” Francis finally lowered his voice his anger had vanished replaced with the voice of a man broken by the world. 

“Men’s bodies mutilated in ways so horrific that I am quite certain very few have ever seen, by a creature not of this world.” 

“I saw a man, our captain, treat the two Netsilik, a man accidentally shot by Tozer and his daughter, like they were not even human because he blamed them for the death of Lieutenant Gore. Stanely refused to even operate on him and Dr. Goodsir had to beg Sir John to let him try, he died anyways and he had the man’s body thrown into a hole in the ice rather than let the girl do whatever her people do with their dead. The same hole he was drowned in.” 

“Chief Surgeon Stephen Stanely, whose job was to care for the sick, to save lives, set what was supposed to be a night of fun up in flames after barricading any route of escape before lighting himself on fire taking the lives of eighteen people.”

“I watched a creature of such enormity climbing the masts as Thomas moved across the rigging and beams trying to get away from it, cannon fire striking the beast where it clung to the main mast allowing Thomas to get away from it at the expense of a leg.” 

“Erebus lost to us beneath the ice when the pressure became too much for her to bear, crushed at the keel and a captain staring as the mast disappeared beneath the water.” 

Crozier took a moment to pause before he continued. 

“John Irving’s body brought back to the camp, he had been stabbed twenty-three times, scalped, and his man parts had been cut off.. such unspeakable things had done to him by one of our own who tried to blame the group of Netsilik that we found dead just down a hill from where his and Thomas Farr’s bodies was found. Apparently before me and Commander Fitzjames returned to the camp and learned of Lieutenant Irving’s death, a small group of me led by Mr. Hickey and Sergeant Tozer launched an attack and shot them to avenge the crew members that Mr. Hickey had slaughtered himself. Irving had been trying to communicate with them, asking them for the help I know they would have given us. Hickey was adamant to create chaos. It was a small group, a family probably, four men, an old woman and there was a little girl.”

“Dr. Goodsir’s corpse with hunks of flesh having been cut out of it lying on a table in the camp of the mutineers. He had given up hope and taken his own life but the man made one last effort to stop Hickey’s madness by poisoning himself, knowing that Hickey’s group would consume him.”

Crozier swallowed the lump in his throat as he remembered how Fitzjames had also given up.

“Commander.. Captain Fitzjames’s body so terribly ravaged by scurvy that the bullet holes from his ever famous story of the time he got shot by the Chinese reopened. The man had holes in him and the bloody fool didn’t tell anyone, instead he had been hauling in his harness and just dropped. In the end he was begging me to help him end his pain. He was bleeding out of one of his eyes and hair, too far gone to survive the night as he lay in agonizing pain telling me to use his body to feed the men. As much as it pained me, I could not bring myself to refuse his first request… euthanising the man like some wounded animal by administering one of the droughts from Dr. Goodsir’s supply. I don’t know if Hickey’s group just robbed his corpse from where we buried him, or if they ate it but I pray to whatever God there is that they didn’t.”

“After the ambush… I had expected Lieutenant Little to go against my orders to lead the men home, and instead lead a rescue party to the mutineer’s camp… but it was not to be. I can only assume, now, that the men were tired and they just wanted to get out of this hell as soon as they could. Little would have come with a party if he could have, I imagine he also realized that he would not be able to take Hickey’s group alone so he went with them… they left the sick behind. One of my last orders had been against this and I know that the chain of command was no longer being followed, I know Edward would not have disobeyed any of my orders unless he had no choice.” 

Francis was quiet for a long time as his mind travelled somewhere else. 

Wherever it was Ross could clearly see it was one of the things that burdened the man so much, possibly the thing that had made the man so emotionally unhinged. 

As the pause continued James noticed the man’s eyes were starting to mist with tears and he felt that maybe he should pull that man back from wherever he had gone. 

However, before he could try to do so Francis suddenly spoke in a tone that sounded like a man who had never experienced happiness in his life but instead a great suffering. 

“Jopson was one of those sick...” 

Right as the words left him James watched the tears roll silently down his cheeks. 

_‘Oh… that’s why… they finally got together.’_ James thought as he smiled sadly to himself. 

Having sailed with both the young steward and Crozier together once before he knew exactly what was bothering his friend. 

It was no secret that Thomas Jopson not only had been undeniably loyal to Francis, many crew members had been able to pick up on the young steward’s endless admiration he had for him, almost to the point that if Francis had nothing for the young man to do and he had time to rest. He would get very bored and almost antsy, there were many times while on their previous expeditions together that he would find Thomas seeking out the other man’s company if he were not busy himself.

The two would talk for long periods of time, the young steward enjoying Crozier’s stories of his youth, his Irish home that he had long since left, his adventures at sea, his career, and the occasional uncharitable rants the Irishman’s hot temper spouted in private when he figured no one was around. 

He would listen with a smile on his face and an eager twinkle in his eyes that James had seen once before in his wife’s eyes the day they met and still he saw it every time he looked into them.

They were the eyes of someone in love. 

_’With all due respect Sir John, Sophia Cracroft is a fucking bitch and Francis Crozier deserved so much better than your promiscuous neice.’_ he thought bitterly to himself. 

He honestly didn’t know how Francis could stand the woman, she could be just like Lady Jane at times except she focused her skills of manipulation on men.

She rejected the man twice and he still found her fascinating he just didn’t understand it.

Miss Cracroft was absolutely infatuated with him even though he was already marrying another woman. 

Fancis’s relationship with Sophia Cracroft was more of a tragic love poem really. He wanted her but she didn’t want him she wanted someone else. 

That didn’t give her the right to lead his friend on that was just cruel. 

It was a relief to learn that Francis had finally given up on his fantasy about being with Sophia. 

Perhaps all it took was Thomas Jopson to make such a thing possible.

He was one of the few people who knew that Francis Crozier had bedded a man before, a long time ago as a young man, he had told him one night over when they shared a toast over some milestone they had passed on their last expedition. 

The idea that the two men had actually been more than good friends made his heart feel warm, the young man was kind, compassionate, patient, and loyal to a fault. 

Just as fast as the warm feeling entered his chest, it was gone and replaced with a iciness as his heart bled for the other captain.

It was a shame it didn’t happen sooner, he knew the two would have made each other happy and during the time they had been together, he also knew they did. 

“I had been accompanied by Lady Silence when I went back to find the men after my wounds had taken time to heal. I found him at Rescue Camp outside a tent that had since collapsed.”

Ross sat there in silence watching the tears flow freely down his face as he took a shuttering breath and choked back a sob. 

He reached out a hand and placed it on Francis’s arm rubbing it silently as he tried to offer the man some sort of comfort if he could. 

“The poor lad, he had crawled out of the tent they left him in, I would assume trying to follow the men as they left. He was just laying there faced down, his palms were damn near cut to ribbons by the shale… his skin was such a blue shade James, it was almost indigo. He had been there for a while, I don’t know how long.” 

“I am sorry Francis, truly I am. I find myself at a loss for words.” James replied as Crozier placed rested his face in his hand staring down at the table.

That was when a grim silence sat heavy in the room that stretched on for several minutes as the Captain of the H.M.S Terror allowed himself to recooperate enough emotionally to speak once more. 

“It gets worse James.” he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. 

Sir James felt a heavy weight form in his gut as he took the whisper as a hint that whatever ‘it’ was it clearly something he didn’t want any of his own crew to overhear and stood to close the great cabin door before returning to his seat. 

Francis let out a deep sigh and sat up straight again.

“We both know the effect starvation has on men.” 

The other man swallowed and shook his head pleadingly. “Oh Francis, please tell me they didn’t...” 

“After we found Jopson… we encountered two more camps. In the first one we found the corpses of William Closson, Samuel Crispe, William Sinclair, and Lieutenant Henry Le Vesconte in two of the tents that were left behind. The second one...” 

Crozier trailed off and looked down as he recalled what horrors he had seen. 

“Go on Francis.” Ross said softly. 

Francis cleared his throat deciding to just spit it out. 

“It was… horrific James. Right away I could spot bones in pots.. beside one of the tattered tents. There was dried… no frozen blood all over the ground. Barrels had been smashed into splinters and various books, many bibles were upturned I could see bloody hand prints frozen onto the pages of many as they were blown open by the winds. Empty cans of that accursed Goldner’s products were discarded, men’s utensils were on the ground… and the body parts that they had hacked off of each other. There was… a leg of a seaman severed just below the knee lying in basin that still had a boot on it and clothing on it. It had just been cut open so that someone could tear a hunk out of the back of the man’s calf the rest of the flesh was just lying exposed to the air.. we both have seen just what men are capable of when they are desperate… but Christ be damned I had never seen anything like this Ross.”

Ross sat there with his mouth agape his face almost as white as the fur on the great white bears that roamed the arctic tundra.

“There were five men dead in one of the five tents who hadn’t been butchered, John Hammond, James Thompson, John Weekes, George Chambers, and Richard Aylmore... in another tent I found one man still alive… Lieutenant Little… his skin was so cold it was blue and his mouth was hanging open it looked like his tongue had actually gotten frostbite because of it. He had gold chains hanging off his face. I got there just in time for Edward to die in my arms.” 

Sir James was confused and disturbed by the statement. “What do you mean he had chains hanging off his face?” 

Crozier cleared his throat once more. “I mean, is that he had the ends of little gold chains I am assuming from men’s pocket watches secured into his face. In his cheeks on the skin below his eyes,his nose, and his mouth, all the way to the back of his ears. I do not know if he had lost his mind in the madness that was this camp and he did it himself or if it was done to him by another seaman.” 

Francis watched as Sir James Ross paled again and quickly rose to his feet and running across the room where he dropped to his knees in front of an empty basin where he immediately started to lose whatever his last meal had been. 

This continued for several minutes before his steward came rushing in looking quite distressed by his Captain’s sudden illness. 

“Good god, Captain! Sir, here let me help.” the older man gushed he reached his hands down to pull Ross’s hair back out of the way.

Any other time Francis would have laughed at the scene before him, this was one of the many reasons why he had always kept his hair short… or had in a lifetime before. 

“I often felt if I had gotten there even a day sooner, maybe I could have helped Edward, but instead everyone died. All of them.” Crozier finished his story as Ross’s steward fussed over him until Ross had to dismiss him.

Francis took a deep breath and stood up approaching Ross before he placed his hand on his shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze. 

“Forgive me for my outburst James, I let my temper get the best of me. I trust you understand why I cannot go to the admiralty?” he asked. 

“Have you considered leaving the beast out of your report?” Ross asked after a few moments. 

Crozier swallowed he had a feeling the man would suggest this to which he really had no valid argument other than he really didn’t want to return to England. 

There was nothing there for him. 

His career would be over. He’d lost his lover and he knew somehow everyone would blame him the Irish outcast as the cause for the failure.

“You don’t have to tell the admiralty everything Francis.” James offered softly, his face was full of concern for his friend. 

Francis finally slumped into one of the chairs again and gave a slight nod. 

“I’m sorry about the glass, I’ll clean that up.” he offered as he got ready to stand but Ross’s voice stopped him. 

“No Francis, the only thing you are going to do is go get some rest.”

Crozier just nodded absent-mindedly as he sat there staring intently at the map that lay discarded on the floor, focusing on that horrible… horrible shape that he knew would forever haunt his nightmares. 

He felt Ross’s hand upon his shoulder now as he tried meet his eyes.

“I am so relieved to see you again Francis… I have missed you greatly.” 

The older man offered a sad smile, “I’ve missed you too.”

**~ X X X ~**

Later that night as Crozier lay in a hammock for the first time in several years among James Ross’s crew he did his best to ignore the whispers and stares he received from several of them. 

He couldn’t blame them really, here he was a living relic of that godforsaken quest to find the Northwest Passage. 

Most of these men had probably heard he was dead along with everyone else from their voyage.

Sir James had offered him one of the officer’s quarters but he had declined not both not wanting to kick some poor soul out of his own place of comfort and because deep down he felt he no longer deserved such treatment. 

_’One hundred and thirty-three men.’_ he thought quietly to himself. 

He was responsible for this, he knew in some way he was even if he didn’t know how.  
He had failed as a Captain. He had failed his crew. He had failed Mr. Blanky. He had failed James... He had failed Jopson. 

_“If we are to deposit anything with a view to return at some later date, it’ll be things not men. I’d rather we leave our tents behind and sleep two to a sac like the orphans we are than leave any man behind with last burden. I speak that not only of James, I’ll not leave any one of you either.”_

“Dear Christ Thomas, I hope you know that was true.” he muttered softly to himself as he blinked away tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIN!!!
> 
> Short and sweet my first Terror fic so be nice plesae! 
> 
> I think that's the shortest story I ever intended on writing too. I knew if I did something long term I would forget about my other stories.


	3. Bonus: Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter, because my fiance said he wanted one. Thank him. 
> 
> I am aware that some of the facts might not be historically accurate which of course is important as I mentioned in the last chapter but I bent some rules. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!!

By the time the H.M.S. Enterprise had returned to England it was in November of 1851 and Ross had generously offered to let Francis stay with Ann and himself in the Ross residence as long as he needed. 

He also decided to let Francis have some time to settle down before speaking to the Admiralty til after the new year. 

It was now January of 1852 and today was the day Sir James had scheduled a private meeting with the admiralty. 

For god’s sake he didn’t care about the admiralty, he just wanted to get out of the house and outside. Ross had damn near put him on house arrest because he didn’t want people to recognize him and have panic break out in the streets. 

Francis let out a frustrated grunt as he struggled with the collar on the frock jacket that Ross was letting him borrow for their meeting with the admiralty.

At this point he didn’t know what had been easier catching seal with one hand or returning to his old life and struggling with the dress code with one hand.

“Damn fucking useless piece of -!” 

“Do not dare finish that sentence Francis Crozier! What on Earth is the matter?” he heard Ann Ross’s scolding yet concerned voice from the open doorway.

It still was quite entertaining to Francis that his best friend, Sir James Ross, married a woman who despised profanity to the utmost degree. He’d already witnessed the man get smacked with a book or two for swearing in front of her. 

He huffed and sat down on the side of the bed his hand upturned in his lap as he slowly met her gaze.

“Nothing’ Lady Ross. Just have to get used to the admiralty's insistent views on appropriate attire.” 

Lady Ross smiled sweetly before she approached, “I’ll let you in on a secret Francis,” she started while her hands moved up to his collar which she happily straightened out. 

He looked down at his lap as she did this, embarrassment running through him like a wild fire. 

“, half of the time James gets ready to walk out into the public with his collar on crooked.” she continued.

Knowing the woman was doing her best to try to cheer him up without upsetting him over his disability he offered her a weak smile, fake as it was.

After she was done fussing over his collar she moved to the brass buttons on the the coat doing them up with delicate fingers with an intermediate dexterity.

Such dexterity that Francis’s heart throbbed paintfully for a moment as he watched the woman continue to do the job that his steward… his friend… his lover… used to perform for him. 

As the thoughts faded from his head an overwhelming sadness and despair filled his gut and he turned his eyes downward to stare at the nub of his missing hand.

_‘Oh Thomas… I miss you...’_

Lady Ann was no fool, she had already picked up on Captain Crozier’s unpredictable mood swings. 

Her husband had explained to her that he was known to have them before but they hadn’t always been this bad,and it seemed, as if his return from the Arctic has made them more unpredictable. 

She didn’t blame the poor soul either. 

Well over one hundred men left on those boats. 

Only one came back.

The poor man must have been through terrors beyond any one of those fools still on the admiralty board could imagine.

_’Oh, that reminds me.’_

“Francis, the admiralty has had some changes since your ships disappeared.” the woman stated softly. 

The offered insight caught Crozier’s attention and he soon focused on conversation rather than observing her nit-picking over the frock coat. 

“What sort of changes do you mean my Lady?” 

“Now Francis, how many times do I have to tell you to forget the formalities? Call me Ann, any friend of James’s is a friend of mine.” 

“Apologies.” he muttered softly. 

She hummed softly to herself for a moment as she thought. 

“Well, let me see… Sir John Borrow is gone, passed in the early winter of 1848.” she explained as she rolled up the cuffs on the coat.

“It was only a matter of time.” Francis replied dryly. 

Lady Ross nodded as she finished doing up the gold laced buttons and rose to her feet. 

He thanked her softly and she beckoned him to stand. 

“Come now Francis let’s have a look at you.” she beckoned him to stand. 

He did so with a grunt of effort and watched as the woman fussed for a few more seconds before nodding to herself.

“You still look just as much a captain as James.” she commented with a smile. 

“Francis? Are you ready?” James’s voice called from the hallway.

His head was pushed down slightly and it took a moment to realize that Ann was situating a hat on top of his head.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to protest she was suddenly scooting him out the door. “Go on now, you two don’t want to keep the admiralty waiting.” 

_‘If I had my say I’d make those whore pissed old vultures wait as long as I damn well please.’_ he thought bitterly. 

James met him in the hallway and they stood for a while staring at each other, or well mostly James was staring likely thinking to himself how long it had been since he had not only seen him in uniform but also since he had actually seen Francis.

Eventually the awkwardness of it all started to bother him. 

“Shall we?” he offered with a gesture. 

“Oh. Yes, yes of course.” Ross gushed leading the way. 

They walked in silence until all at once James started with an ‘oh wait!’ and left Francis in the hallway after scurrying off down the hallway and disappearing into a room.

Francis waited for several minutes before James came back with a wooden box. “I have something for you. Francis” 

The older man swallowed thickly as he recognized the mahogany trinket box that had been in his possession many years ago.

“Are those….?” 

James smiled brightly as he opened the box revealing a few medals that Francis had obtained in his career. "I kept a few things."

Francis let his eyes meet Ross’s before looking back down at the last one that had held any symbolism of his ranking.

James pulled the last badge out and set the dovetail joint box on top of a cabinet and moved in close so he could pin the badge onto the collar of his frock coat. 

“That way they don’t make the mistake of thinking you stole the whole uniform from me.” he joked. 

**~ X X X ~**

As he and him made it through the city towards the Whitehall part of town which held most of the government buildings including the one the Admiralty used as a headquarters, he tried to ignore the occasional stares and obvious chatter among people on the streets.

James gave his shoulder a pat trying to offer some sort of comfort to him clearly he was aware of the attention as well.

When they finally stood outside their destination Francis hesitated to ascend the small cluster of stairs just in front of the front door.

Ross had ascended the steps so many times he didn’t even give it a second thought, until he paused on the second step to turn and look over his shoulder where he stood frozen with anxiety. 

“Francis? Are you alright?” 

He swallowed nervously but said nothing for a long moment lost in his thoughts.

How ironic that this apparently was what his life used to consist of and he couldn’t even ascend the damn steps just to go talk to a cluster of old fools. 

“Yes.” he finally uttered miserably as he started to ascend the steps. 

**~ X X X ~**

“Are you ready?” James asked him softly, he was starting to wonder if maybe they should have given Francis more time. 

Whether his friend was or wasn’t, he nodded idly and shot him a smile that James thought just dripped anxiety. 

“Good, stay right here for a second Francis.” 

With that he Ross grabbed hold of the two handles on the two heavy oak doors and pushed them open.

“You’re late James!” barked Sir John Ross. 

Francis rolled his eyes and James’s smirk didn’t go unnoticed as entered the room ahead of him.

“I apologize un-- Sir John. We are running a bit behind.” he spoke with a bow of his head.

Francis listened from his spot behind the door way, he knew James had some things he needed to sort out before he came in.

As far as he understood James hadn’t told anyone else besides his own crew whom he had sworn to secrecy about his return. 

Why? He didn’t know exactly. 

“We?” John Richardson asked in confusion.

“Ah, yes. As many of you know all searches for Sir John Franklin’s Expedition have failed to bring much insight-”

Several groans could be heard from some of the men who sat at that table. 

“For god’s sake James, not this again.” John Ross grumbled scrubbing a hand over his face.

George Back was the next one to speak, “Sir James, the arctic explorations for the Northwest Passage have been incredibly expensive as they were. It is regrettable that we cannot continue sending ship after ship out into biting conditions to find the lost ships if we are ever to find the Passage.” 

Something in Francis just snapped at the man’s words and he couldn’t help himself as he walked through the door.

“To hell with your bloody passage!” 

Sir James, let out an irritated groan as he rest his hand over his face for a moment, shaking his head as his plan fell to shit because Francis’s temper. 

Not that he hadn’t been expected it. Sort of.

His arms dropped to his sides and everything was absolutely silent in the room. 

Francis eyed the council, trying to remember the names of the men before him. 

He obviously recognized James’s uncle, Sir John Ross. 

Then there was; William Baillie-Hamilton, Edward Sabine, Sir John Richardson, Frederick William Beechey, Sir William Parry, Sir George Back, Sir Francis Beaufort, John Barrow Jnr, and Edward Bird.

An intense silence seemed to stretch on forever as most of the Admiralty stared in shock at the sight of the man before them.

There was the audible sound of a pen dropping as Sir William Parry’s grip slipped and it fell onto the table with a clatter, his mouth open in a silent gape as if he were staring at a ghost.

“Dear God, Captain Crozier? Is that you?!” he heard his uncle sputter out.

“Aye.” Crozier spat coarsely. 

James walked over to Francis’s side resting a heavy hand on his shoulder upon noticing the man’s red face. “Francis don’t do anything stupid.” 

The other man just snorted, shrugging his hand off his shoulder.

“Forgive me Sir John, but my ears must be playing tricks on me, or did I actually just hear Sir George Back say that you are still looking for a passage?”

With half of the admiralty still staring with their mouths open, Sir John Ross took in Francis Crozier’s image. 

The man was decorated in one of James’s mess uniforms which confused him at first as the Francis Crozier he remembered would have been too stocky to fit into anything of James, and it took the old man a moment to realize it was because Francis was considerably thinner than he remembered. 

Letting his eyes scan further he could see a couple scars on the man’s face, as his eyes travelled down the man’s arms he was able to spot what had seemed amiss, and that was a prominent missing hand.

He couldn’t believe the Captain stood in front of them, it wasn’t but earlier in the year that he head returned to England after making one last search for Sir John’s men, and after the reports he’d heard from various individuals, he was convinced they all perished.

Yet here he was.

Clearly his nephew had been more successful.

“No, Captain Crozier, you heard correctly. We are currently funding an expedition for Commander Robert McClure who set out in earlier in 1850.” Frederick William Beechey replied for Sir John as he continued to study Francis.

This time it was James who seemed to object to the information. 

“Now wait a second, I was told that the McClure expedition was to be another search-”

Red was starting to fill Francis’s face at the man’s answer and Sir James tried to shake Crozier’s shoulder to get his attention. 

John Richardson let out a sigh, “Really Sir James? At this point until the most curious arrival of Captain Crozier, do you honestly think that the probability of finding any of Franklin’s men aliv-”

“You lot of piss drinking English fucking wastes of space!!” the Irishman roared. 

James’s let out the most scandalized sounding noise Francis had ever heard, eyes going as big as saucers. 

“F-Francis!” he cried desperately. 

“You ungrateful whelp! Who do you think you are talking to!? I should have you disranked!” came the infuriated roar of William Baillie-Hamilton

Crozier glared hatefully at the group of men. 

“Fucking’ Christ above! The ships are gone! They are gone! All of them! No thanks to this group of vultures before me!” 

Sir John Ross snorted at the statement.

“Francis, you cannot possibly think that the failure of Franklin’s Expedition was the fault of the men at this table.”

The Captain of the H.M.S Terror went silent for several moments appearing to be deep in thought before he finally responded. 

“No. Not all of it. What became of the Goldner company?” 

Several of the Admirals looked at each other curiously, likely wondering why in the world this sort of information was relevant.

“Stephen Goldner? He still occasionally provides expeditions with provisions. Why?” came the voice of Edward Sabine

“Arrest that man immediately.” Francis snapped irritably. 

James shook Francis’s shoulder again trying to get his attention but Francis ignored him.

“Why don’t we start from the beginning Captain Crozier.” John Ross offered. 

The comment made Francis go bright scarlet with rage.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! You still want my damn report!? You already know the expedition was a failure!” 

“Yes, Francis but they do need-” James started beside him only to have Crozier whirl on his heel and all but scream in his face. “FOR GOD’S SAKE JAMES BE QUIET!” 

James Ross swallowed and quickly nodded his head taking a couple steps back from his friend who seemed adamant on ruining his career. 

“If I didn’t know any better I would say that you vultures seem to care not that out of a hundred and twenty-nine men only one has returned home.”

“Well, for our sake and especially yours, certainly you do know better.” Sir John Richardson stated. 

“Francis, if you do not tell us what happened out there we can’t right any wrongs that have yet to be dealt with. Please, I would ask why you asked about the Goldner company.” William Parry inquired gently. 

The other man took a breath he knew he needed to calm down but the whole situation was just so damn infuriating! 

“It was discovered within two years of our voyage that well over half of our provisions were inedible and Dr. Goodsir later found that the tins that weren’t already putrid from being under-cooked had been contaminated with lead from the soldering of the cans.” 

To Crozier’s surprise Parry just nodded at the statement, “I had my suspicions about that man for the last couple years. I have all the information I need for the authorities now.” 

“I blame Sir John Franklin for this.”

“Oh I’m sure you do Francis.” a voice that sent chills up his spine resounded from behind.

“Lady Jane. Miss Cracroft. What are you doing here?”

Francis’s head whipped around to face the door and low and behold there was that infernal woman and the lovely miss Cracroft standing in the doorway. 

Sophia’s eyes lit up with something and her lip trembled and before Lady Jane could stop her she was running forward launching herself at the captain as she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“Oh Francis!” 

James Ross watched as his friend stood rigid with the woman’s arms around his neck and shoulders for several moments before finally his teeth bared and he grabbed Miss Cracroft by her shoulders and shoved her away from his personal space.

Shocked by the action Sophia went to reach a hand towards him only for it to be swatted away and Lady Jane came up behind her and offered her a reassuring hand. 

“So the rumours are true.” she spat at the Irishman coldly. 

Crozier shrugged, “Unfortunately, it would seem.” 

Lady Jane and Francis Crozier were locked in an intense stare down both pair of eyes filled with such distaste for the other that James could feel the blood lust radiating off of his friend.

“So dear Francis, this is somehow my husband’s fault? Please, share with us your evidence on the matter.” 

Francis glared shaking with barely contained anger and James grabbed his shoulders holding them tightly as if the man was going to lunge at any second.

“Sir John put 127 men in early graves all for the sake of his own pride!” 

Lady Jane waved a hand at him, in dismissal. “Nonsense.” 

Francis jerked forward but James held him back and gave his shoulders a rough shake to remind him where he was.

“You infernal woman! That old fool decided to ignore the concerns from both Mr. Blanky, Mr. Reid and myself regarding the dropping temperatures and had both ships sail straight into the pack ice!” 

Lady Jane scowled at him as she pulled Sophia back away from the heated exchange, “Well, if my husband did make such a dangerous decision there had to be a good reason.” 

“Bleedin’ Christ! There was no purpose! Erebus was lame, she’d suffered damage to her propeller and if that old windbag had just followed my advice and gone for broke we would never have gotten frozen in for two winters!” 

“Leave Erebus behind Francis? The flag ship? Preposterous!” George Backs argued, clearly understanding why Sir John had been against the idea.

Crozier smiled at this, and it was an ugly sardonic smile that Ross could tell was going to stir trouble. 

Immediately he knew what the man was going to say. 

“Francis. Francis no.” he pleaded with the man but once again it went ignored. 

“Leave her behind? Forgive me for my candidness Sir George, but where exactly are the two ships now?” 

James groaned and rubbed his temples in frustration, how the hell did this whole thing get so out of hand?

George Back stood up from his spot slamming a fist on the table. “Why you miserable little-”

“Gentlemen. Please.” Beechey interrupted trying to ease the tensions. 

“Francis, we could not be happier to see you alive, it has brought us all much to consider in regards to further attempts of the passage. We are all very busy so we would ask you again what became of the expedition?” the man inquired, knowing that this was never going to get over with if the men kept going out each other’s throats.

Francis made sure he had directed eye contact directly with Lady Jane before spitting out his next words. 

“Sir John is dead. He died on the eleventh of June in 1847.” 

Sophia covered her mouth with a hand while Lady Jane’s mouth pursed into a tight line, clearly she had been expecting this in some way.

“Everyone is dead. Either by scurvy, illness, starvation…or-” Francis could see his old friend desperately shaking his head pleading him not to tell them the last bit of information he had received from the Terror’s Captain.

It was enough to make him ponder his next words.

William Beechey looked at him over his glasses, “Go on, Captain.” 

With a burdened sigh, Francis finally relented. “Or by another’s hand. They were starving and eventually the remaining men resulted to eating the closest thing to fresh meat that they could find.” 

Most of the Admiralty paled and there was only a couple who quickly recovered only to start hurling insults at him. 

“How dare you spread such lies Francis Crozier!” Sophia’s shrill voice screeched at him. 

Francis turned on her glaring hatefully. 

“You think this is a lie Miss Cracroft?” he laughed sarcastically. 

“It must be! You are just upset that I rejected your proposal, so you are trying to say hurtful things.” she snapped furiously.

Captain Crozier dead panned, he couldn’t even fathom how someone could be that self-centred as to think that he would make up such atrocities just because she refused his hand in marriage.

Heart weary and exhausted, he looked at her with such disappointment that it made Miss Cracroft’s bones feel numb.

“There are horrors far worse in this world than your rejections Miss Cracroft. I wish it were a lie. Many of the people in this room have either seen or heard of the things men will do to survive. I saw them myself.” 

Tears of guilt, anger, and disbelief had started to trickle down Sophia’s face. She couldn’t believe that this was the Francis she had sent to look after her uncle, and clearly failed to do just that.

“Shall I give you a description Miss Cracroft?” he asked with a sneer. 

“No! No that is quite alright!” Lady Jane insisted but it didn’t deter the man at all. 

“After the men scattered, I came upon one of their tents and found four men dead, bones in pots, and a half eaten leg of what I think was one of the Lieutenants.” 

A lie, he knew, or part of it was, but anything to get these two hens to come down from that pedestal they felt they were entitled to and see reality. 

Sophia had started to wave her hand in front of her face half-way through his descriptive explanation and it wasn’t until near the end that the woman actually fainted and Lady Jane did her best to tend to her.

“Francis!” James hissed sharply, as funny as he may have found the woman fainting personally, he knew his friend was treading on thin ice.

“You vultures sit here sending men to their deaths out in that god forsaken plain of death and despair. Looking for something that very well may not bloody exist or may not be available to us. How many men have to die for this damn crusade!?” 

John Ross stood up and held up a hand for silence. 

This was when Francis Rawdon Moria Crozier had enough of this life style and reached to his collar prying the golden emblem that had his name and rank engraved on it. 

“Fucking Christ! You old fools can take my resignation however you wish. I have seen too many people die in a land of cruel ice and bitter helplessness, no more.” he spat and tossed the medal onto the table that the admiralty sat at. 

“Francis, don’t throw your life away.” John Ross said sternly but the younger man was already exiting the room with James about ready to follow before his uncle’s booming voice called him back. 

“Not so fast Sir James, we need to discuss some things first.” 

**~ X X X ~**

He couldn’t help but think of how utterly pointless everything had been. 

Who the hell cared if there was a Northwest Passage?

Was sending so many men to die really worth it? 

Francis didn’t think so, but he knew the stubbornness of men was hard to quell, those men would continue to send ship after ship out into that icy oblivion until they found such a means of travel. 

He let his mind wander towards the people who were lost. 

Dr. Harry Goodsir and his childlike fascination with that cruel uninhabitable field of ice, shale, and more ice. His fascination with the great white bears and the natives of that frigid cold, with Silna or how he had known her, Lady Silence.

Lieutenant John Irving and his bible. His young looks that made Lieutenant Little and Lieutenant Hodgson give the poor man grief every now and then. How he had made contact with the Netsilik and how they had fed him, the man had found possibly their best chance at survival. His determination to live. That fire snuffed out by that impostor Mister Hickey. 

Thomas Blanky and his wild laugh. His old friend. He still remembered their reminiscence about the reindeer ‘Todd’. His damn near addiction to tobacco and his jokes. Watching the man climb the rigging like that stupid monkey Jakko that Sir John had brought on the voyage. Watching the man gleefully jump up and down as he laughed hysterically at his appalled face when he requested forks and fifteen feet of rope. The man had been wild, fierce, fearless. He remembered watching his friend smile knowingly at him, knowing how much Francis must have been hurting… was hurting… before watching the man hobble away.

He often wondered how the man’s wife Esther had fared up in Yorkshire once the news hit. 

Maybe he would pay the widow a visit. 

He remembered Commander… no… Captain James Fitzjames, a man he used to hate for his boring overuse of that miserable ‘That time I got shot by the Chinese’, and how close they had became later as blood and death surrounded them both. The man’s tears as he revealed to him so much disappointment in his broken voice that he was a fraud. Every man has his secrets. Some more than others. James Fitzjames was no fraud. He was just a man like every single one of them. Just a man trying so desperately hard to survive in a world that was notorious for being bitterly cruel. He remembered James begging him for mercy… to end his life suffering from his scurvy eaten body. 

That was one of the hardest decisions he’d ever made, but deep down he knew, for his friend he would do it again. 

He thought of Lieutenant Edward Little and the golden chains that were gored into his face, the icicles in his hair and beard. He remembered the man how he was the last time he had seen him, before Hickey’s group… during Hickey’s group. The man looked so determined and fierce, the look in his big brown eyes holding nothing but promise that he would return to save his Captain despite repeating the order he had just been given. A fiercely loyal man and he knew the poor man wouldn’t have left him to those mutineers unless he had little options. Just like he knew he wouldn’t have left Lieutenant Jopson and the rest of their sick unless the chain of command had been disbanded. Who knew maybe the men forced him to come with them. Or maybe, just maybe poor Lieutenant Little was suffering just as much as everyone there had been. 

There were no good decisions in that godforsaken place. 

_’Lieutenant Jopson….Thomas Jopson… my Thomas..._

He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, forcing the last images he had of his lover from his head so he could instead try to focus on the man as he remembered him. 

Lean and slender with a clean shaven face. 

His silky hair an inky black that he had always parted so neatly, and would sometimes be brushed back to the side if it slipped, or if the lad were to get nervous. 

Eyes that were a beautiful shade of pale blue, something so uncommon he’d found, among most people he’d seen in England. 

A smile that could warm ice itself if god would let it, a sunny smile that would occasionally let the man’s dimples be made known.

The heart of pure unyielding kindness and love that the man had possessed, having been taking care of others most of his life, it was always trying to see the best in people. 

As Francis entered the Ross’s residence he was met by Ann who came over to him with a concerned look on her face, clearly his face must have screamed that things didn’t go well. 

“Francis, dear what happened?” she fussed as he took a seat at the dining room table. 

With a heavy sigh Francis met her gaze, “It would seem, no matter how many times you try to explain things to that group of vultures, no matter how many different ways with words, the result is the same. Arrogance.”

She nodded idly before standing up to go make some tea while they conversed. 

“I never want to see snow or ice again in my life Ann, and I made sure that I would not be sent to such a place of carnage ever again.”

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SO HARD IT IS 3:40 IN THE MORNING AND ALL I HAD EARLIER THIS MORNING AS IN YESTERDAY MORNING WAS THREE SENTENCES!!! 
> 
> First of all I'm going to go on a preach and praise rant. 
> 
> The Terror written by Dan Simmons is I kid you not one of the absolute greatest books that has ever been written that depicts fictionalized versions of a real event/tragedy. IF YOU ARE JUST FANS OF THE TV SHOW I ABSOLUTELY INSIST THAT YOU STOP AT A BARNES N' NOBLE AND PICK UP A COPY!!! I am 24 years old and I hadn't picked up a book since high school. YES I KNOW THAT IS BAD BUT BITE ME I READ ONLINE MOSTLY!!! After watching the show I became obessed with it and decided to grab a copy and I COULD NOT PUT IT DOWN!! (Albeit the road of life dragged me away from it for several months at a time and I finally finished it today... I read chapter 56 AND IT FUCKING BROKE ME! I AM A SAD BROKEN FANGIRL WHO IS SAD AND MISERABLE AND WANTS TO CURL UP INTO A BALL AND SOB UNTIL I CAN'T ANYMORE!!! People who read the book I'm sure can relate.
> 
> Obviously I am aware that the real Thomas Jopson's birthday is listed as December 8th, 1816 but I went off the one listed in Dan Simmons book.
> 
> I am also aware that realistically Ross probably wouldn't have been there as he sailed on the Enterprise from 1848 to 1849 but I wanted him there so yeah, he's here. I gave him one more year of command. :p
> 
> This book also got me absolutely obsessed with the Franklin Expedition altogether. The things these poor men went through in real life is just oh god it was just as bad and Simmons so brilliantly added onto that morbidity. 
> 
> I AM A FIRM BELIEVER THAT THE REAL FRANCIS CROZIER DID SURVIVE DUE TO LATER SIGHTINGS OF TWO WHITE MEN ONE OF THEM LOOKING LIKE FRANCIS BEING SPOTTED BETWEEN 1852 and 1858!! CONVINCE ME FREAKING OTHERWISE!!
> 
> No seriously, if you find anything let me know because I sure can't!!
> 
> I NEED TO GO TO BED!! 
> 
> DID I TELL YOU GUYS I ALSO TYPED THIS WHOLE THING AFTER BREAKING MY FINGER TWO DAYS AGO!! I AM IN PAIN BUT IT WAS SO WORTH IT!!
> 
> Also this story was inspired and gifted to those who inspired me with their works!! 
> 
> if our frozen selves remember - By carnival papers. READ READ READ READ READDDDD
> 
> How to Come Home - smaragdbird READ READ READ READ READDDDD


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